


The tub

by shittershutter



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:53:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24910363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shittershutter/pseuds/shittershutter
Summary: As his fingers slip in and his eyelids slide shut, he changes right before the older man's eyes. From a small terrified creature to a man, alive, strong, comfortable. Trusting.
Relationships: Juice Ortiz/Chibs Telford
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	The tub

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of past rape/non-con (nothing explicit).

When Chibs pushes the bathroom door open he's looking for his phone, not for another crisis. Yet he steps right into one. 

He's made enough noise while turning the bedroom upside down moments earlier so his appearance shouldn't be that much of a surprise. But the kid freezes in space all the same.

Like a statue of a man instead of a real one, he just stands there, motionless and curled in on himself, pressed sideways against the tiles as hot water drums against his skin mercilessly. 

Chibs freezes, too, one foot across the threshold. His throat clicks to lock a hearty curse or a dozen in and he's left with nothing to react with. The inertia takes over and he barges inside with all the grace and decorum his aging joints and his leather boots can muster. 

Juice doesn't even blink. 

So Chibs perches atop of the toilet seat and has to pretend to lace his already laced boots for some time just to give the kid space and support with his presence. He watches him from the corner of his eye, studies the tense lines of him through the dense steam.

It's the method that works best, Chibs finds, just being there. Helpless as it feels at times, the kid comes back faster when he has someone to come back to. 

In the meantime, he can dedicate himself to a few seconds to a minute of blinding, useless, white-knuckled rage for every man who's ever cornered Juice in a similar tight space, pressed him against the tiles and took away huge chunks of him that are impossible to get back. 

Moments pass; the shoulders go down first, relaxing as if Juice's body reacts to the older man's presence faster than his mind does. Then he turns to press his back against the wall, rubs his face, and through the net of his fingers, he mumbles: "What?" 

His voice is barely there but it's even in its structure, in the way it flows. It means the breathing is there, right underneath it, supporting the sound. 

Chibs lets out a sigh of relief that dissolves into the very thick of steam that clings to the skin of his face and the leather of his cut. It was quick this time. His heart still pulsates with pain that makes him grind his teeth all the same. 

"Looking at you," he grumbles back, leaning against the toilet tank as casually as one can all things considered. He winks at Juice and gets a snort in return. Just like that, he gets him back.

Chibs' own shoulders relax and eyes wander, follow the foam as it slides down the kid's thighs, his calves and feet. Runs down his body just like the older man's hands would, gently yet not leaving even an inch of him untouched. Bubbles around his feet and dissolves at the bottom of the tub. It's calming to watch, meditative almost.

***

Bobby gets this damn bathtub for Chibs as a birthday gift. Pays to get it "acquired" rather. It's very much antique by the looks of it. It stands on four golden lion legs just so he can sit in it and sulk with a glass of wine and a book of poetry if he's suddenly nostalgic for his European debauched ways.

Chibs would be offended at being turned into a stereotype but shit, if the damn thing saves him from a pre-installed shower cabin complete with mold in every corner, he might as well embrace it.

Them girls and boys that he takes home through the years dig the tub. Makes their clothes fly right off. When he's feeling generous enough, he sticks a few candles around it. It's so effective that he doesn't even have to whip out a single vintage poetry book he uses as a door stopper. His dick is getting sucked either way. 

Juice also digs the tub when he rides into Chibs' life and pushes all the girls and the boys out of it without really doing anything. They share it sometimes, even though it quite obviously wasn't made for two grown men. They just sit there, facing each other, knees touching, sharing wine (wine goes well with the golden lion legs). When their teeth and mouths turn blue, they giggle and snort like teenagers and kiss until the water runs cold. 

***

Chibs blinks the sweat off his eyes and watches Juice watching him, one hand cupping his cock like he's unsure if he wants to cover himself or to tug on it for a bit. A bar of lavender soap is melting in his other hand and since for both of their sakes no jokes about dropping it are allowed in the household, Chibs tells him: "Put it down."

Juice flings it into the sink and stares at his foamy hand for a moment before pushing it between his legs, right down the crack of his ass. Tremors run through his inner thighs but those are of the good kind. Chibs has seen enough to know the difference. 

As his fingers slip in and his eyelids slide shut, he changes right before the older man's eyes. From a small terrified creature to a man, alive, strong, comfortable. Trusting. 

Chibs swallows hard as he watches those lean hips making a little dance, a tilt, and push back, looking for a spot. It can't be easy for his wrist and if Chibs hasn't had sketchy places to be and bad things to do this night, he'd drop his pants and be up Juice's ass hitting that spot just right until the kid's spine would curl and he'd press his mouth to the spot where the nastiest of Chibs' scars smudges against the shell of his ear and whine: "Baby, baby, baby..." 

Chibs' brain still calculates speeds and distances and all the words Tig will say and imply for him being this late when his body drops to its knees in front of the bathtub, in front of Juice standing in it. 

It calms him, the position he willingly puts himself in. Submissive in a way, yet very stable. Part of it is unmeasurable, crushing guilt, but the bigger part is love in the simplest, most banal sense. The one that makes his heart spasm painfully yet doesn't kill him. 

"Juicy, look at me," he says. 

It's the clear eye contact he's after. Juice's eyes burn like two embers but he's focused, present, there. 

Chibs moves in and wraps his arms around the kid's thighs to hold him in place, then presses a few sloppy kisses to the head of Juice's cock. It'll do as a preamble, it'll have to. 

It'll also have to be good enough to substitute all the words he wouldn't trust his tongue with. The love is banal but the lust of the younger man is even simpler, more primal. The only thing that is surprising about is how much of it is roaring inside of him.

He takes him into his mouth. The hand on his shoulder is clawlike, but the one in his hair, pale grey and cut short these days, is gentle. The first date/first kiss kind of gentle. Fingertips dance across his scalp but don't push, don't pressure. 

Chibs sucks him in, head to the root, and washes the length with his tongue until the lavender is gone and it's only the taste of the man that remains. 

The water drops ricochet off Juice's skin making him wetter and wetter as he sucks. He leans away to kiss the head again, to taste the slit, and looking up makes his head spin so hard it makes keeping his eyes open difficult.

Juice looks down at him and keeps stroking his hair, pushing it back until his face is completely exposed and his eyes burn.

Chibs rubs the head against his lower lip. Most of it is water, for sure, getting into his mouth, sliding underneath the hem of his t-shirt. Strings of precome connect their flesh and Juice mouths his name clearly, so he can see.

Or maybe he says it out loud. The water's loud and the blood roaring in Chibs' ears is louder so he's left with reading the lips he'd rather be kissing. 

He groans in frustration and moves away to yank his cut and the layers of soaked clothes underneath, to give himself more skin contact. Their skin burns as it connects. To give himself a moment to breathe, he drags his mouth slowly up Juice's legs, drinking the scathing water off the flesh. There is urgency in his motions like he was dying of thirst and now can't stop pouring water down his throat. 

He turns his head to kiss Juice's hand still gripping his shoulder. "Fuck yourself, boy, help me out," he croaks. It's not like he's worried about Tig not being able to talk himself out of his absence. But the steam is suffocating and his own dick is hurting him worse than the knees digging into the tiles do. 

He kisses the head again and swallows it when he feels Juice's pelvis tilt and the uneven jerky thrusts of his hand follow.

Juice comes holding onto the back of the older man's head and Chibs goes with it when he's finally pushed. It's smooth like a dance, easy to follow, impossible to fight. The head hits the roof of his mouth and washes it with come. He swallows and swallows until he can only taste only water again. 

Suddenly, Juice's mouth is on his. Gentle, prying at first but as soon as Chibs gasps to let the air in, the tongue follows. Strong, alive, like the rest of the kid is. It slides against his own, searching for the taste but there is only the water that's left. 

They sit like this, Juice in the tub, Chibs on the floor, hot water hitting them. They hold each other and trade breaths, as little of those as they have left. 

When they finally separate, it's a blur of towels sliding against skin and hands supporting each other. 

***

The clarity returns as the cold air and the darkness of the bedroom hits them. The phone is on the carpet where Chibs could swear he looked for it before.

There are twenty missed calls, some dirty jokes, and loving death threats in text form as well. Inventive, intricate, and somewhat adorable in a way only Tig can put them together. 

"You know that I can't let you ride with the balls this heavy" Juice speaks from the bed. He sounds impressed. Also sated to the point of slurring the words. 

Chibs can't really counter the argument and he follows Juice's beckoning hand until he's straddling the kid's covered body awkwardly. His knees whine for mercy, all of him could use some of it if he's honest. 

So he licks Juice's palm generously and presses their mouths together as the hand wraps around him and strokes. Smooth and easy, Juice's muscle memory takes over while the rest of him still vibrates with the force of his own release. Fingers tighten, then loose so Chibs can fuck into the hand until he's done. 

He gives himself another five minutes just to watch the kid lick his hand clean and then catch his breath from what he's seen, then clean the kid's mouth with his tongue. 

"Take your pills and rest", Chibs says against Juice's temple. He intends on having the last word as he walks through the door and into the dangerous night, leaving the warmth behind him. 

"Wipe my jizz off your beard," the warmth echoes in the same sweet loving tone. 

Chibs snorts but gives his jaw an aggressive rub. Just in case.


End file.
